


Comfort to the Suffering

by LaRondine (messier31)



Category: La Traviata - Verdi/Piave
Genre: Confessions, F/M, Gen, Missing Scene, Religion, Roman Catholicism, anyway violetta did nothing wrong and at least SOMEONE needs to tell her that, even if she might not believe it, it's sad I'm sorry, la traviata-- freeform, opera - Freeform, opera fic, yall i'm really digging into my 10 years of sunday school for this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:14:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27640544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/messier31/pseuds/LaRondine
Summary: A priest heard my confession last night,Violetta says.Religion is great comfort to the suffering.
Relationships: Alfredo Germont/Violetta Valery (referenced)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 7





	Comfort to the Suffering

**Author's Note:**

  * For [notyouraveragejulie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notyouraveragejulie/gifts).



> loosely inspired by "who prays for her, for you" by @raspberryhunter, and written for @notyouraveragejulie after watching the met's 2019 traviata. unedited, written in one sitting, and extremely heavy in catholicism. 
> 
> Violetta recieves her last rites. (takes place just before act 3)

She has thought long and hard about what her last confession will be. Shadows slide across the walls and through the long, quiet hours. She has had so much to confess to in her life that to choose seems impossible. _Have mercy on this sinner, this poor fallen woman._

_Religion is a great comfort to the suffering,_ the priest says when he enters. They sit in low candlelight. 

She had always known her heart would kill her. She just never thought it would be like this, a slow death, lingering on her lips like a poisoned kiss.

He sits at her bedside, takes her hand. _The Lord be with you_. And so it begins. 

_Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned._ She makes it halfway through the refrain before the tears come, hot and shameful. 

Any fleeting words she has prepared die unborn on her lips, and silence overtakes the room.

She has thought long and hard about what her last confession will be. She thinks now, as tears cool her feverish cheeks. The priest is content to sit in peaceful meditation. He has seen this all before. 

She remembers the champagne on her lips the first time Alfredo confessed his love to her, decadent and golden, and remembers the motion of his body against her own. She remembers the sprawling country home to the south, and the many sleepy mornings they'd shared. How that peace had been shattered, in one swift motion, and all control had been stripped from her hands, reducing her once more to the scared, powerless little girl she'd been years ago. Anger-- fear-- helplessness. But Georgio, despite having never before met her, seemed to know the exact workings of her mind, and when he spoke, all seemed obvious, like a veil lifted from her eyes. If she loves him, she must leave him. 

Leaving him was not a sin, or so she tells herself. Loving him was not a sin; this she believes. So where has it all gone so, so wrong?

A candle sputters and dies, and she is suddenly frightened; fear quickly subsides into painful coughing and once more. Frightened of what, she daren't say. She daren't think it, not yet. Let this just be a confession. She closes her eyes, coughs, anticipates the oils on her forehead, hears solemn Latin in her mind. 

_Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned._ He nods with gentle encouragement.

She tells him about her life as a courtesan first, a life that seems so far removed from her present situation that it barely hurts. She tells him a tale of fragile decadence, of pleasure only as a means of escaping fear. She tells him that she had closed her heart to love, from God and from those around her. 

_Be not afraid, my daughter,_ he says _. You are not alone in your struggle. Many have closed their hearts and minds to what will bring them true peace._

She knows he means God. She thinks of Alfredo nonetheless. 

_But Father, I fell in love with a man, a good man_ , she says slowly. _He made me happy, and I loved him. Yet I did the cruelest thing one can do: I left him. I lied, and I let him believe I cared for him no longer. I forced him to leave, and he did._

He tilts his head, just a sliver of curiosity in those serene eyes. _And for this, are you repentant?_

_Yes. No._ She shakes her head, a rush of feelings welling inside her like an incoming tide. _I don't know. It was cruel to act, and crueller not to. Living only for myself is, perhaps, my greatest sin; I lived for him, and this was best for him._

_You must learn, my daughter, to live for God._ He touches the Bible at her bedside. _He will give you the strength you seek. Be at peace with your choices; you have acted in the light, putting the happiness of another above your own._

She wipes an errant tear, and he draws her face up. _Violetta,_ he says, and she shivers at the sound of her name. _Part of healing is forgiving one's self. Resentment and guilt have no place in the house of the Lord. Let this be your penance._

With that, the confession is complete. _Deus, Pater misericordiárum,_ the priest incants. God, merciful Father, have pity on my soul.

He reads from his Bible, passes his hand over her head, brushes oil across her forehead and hands with his thumb. He offers her the host and blood, and she accepts. There is one more sin for which she does not confess, only occurring to her here, now, as the bitter wine stings her tongue and sticks to the back of her throat like an illness. 

It is the sin of giving up. 

_This is it. You have waited, and he has not come. He will never come._

The priest blesses her, _descéndat super vos, et máneat semper, amen_. He promises to pray for her. She watches his back retreat into the shadowed hallway, watches Annina shuffle in to draw the shades and snuff the candles. She watches the door, and knows Alfredo will never pass through it again. 

_Dying would be a mercy,_ she thinks. She closes her eyes and waits for the end. 


End file.
